The Jester
by Redthistle
Summary: The Jester is on a dark and twisted path, destroying the darkness in his path. Following the footsteps of his idol, the Dark Knight, the Jester becomes his own hero. But how does one know whether his ways are for better.. or worse?


Rain splashed on the pavement. Thundered crashed in the dark sky. Occasionally a streak of lightning would split the sky. A young woman walks down the nearly deserted road, barely managing to hold her umbrella. The wind tore at her hair and jacket. She knew it wasn't safe to be walking outside so late at night, but she had to get home. She'd been working late.

She stopped at an alley and stared down it. She thought she saw a something moving near a trashcan. She took a deep breath and shook her head. As she took another step a loud noise echoed from the alley. The cans had been knocked over. She figured it must have just been the wind. She shook her head at her silliness. She barely got 3 steps further. A set of arms grabbed her from behind and yanked her backwards.

She was thrown roughly against the wall. Strong hands grabbed her arms and yanked her around so her back was pressed hard against the wet bricks. Three large men stood before her, leering evily. They pressed an old, filthy rag into her mouth to keep her from screaming. One of the men tore open her shirt to reveal large, plump breasts barely covered in a lacy white bra.

The next to go was her knee-length black skirt. The man grabbed it with both hands and tore it like tissue paper. The woman struggled, tears running freely down her cheeks. While the other two men held her arms and legs, the first man undid his trousers. He tore away her panties. His dark leer turned into a vicious and evil grin. He pulled down his pants and roughly shoved his member into her. He thrust as much weight as he could into her. He pulled out nearly all the way before he threw himself against her once more.

Though tears ran down her cheeks, mingling with rain, the woman vaguely remembered thinking, fantasizing, about getting raped. Just the other day it had been what she wanted most. But now, being in the scenario she'd wanted for so long, she was afraid. She hadn't known what it would mean for her.

The endured the pain of him nearly leaving her before shoving her back. For nearly ten minutes she let the tears fall. He was nearing his climax, she could feel the tension building.

She turned her face away from his wide smirk. She couldn't bare it any longer. From the corner of her eye she saw a flash of colour. Green and red diamonds. The crack of a whip split the air. The man holding her arms was wrenched away suddenly as a thick cord wrapped itself around his neck. The whip cracked again and the man at her feet was torn away. The last man, his penis still fully within the woman turned his head to look stupidly at the figure lruking just outside view. The woman saw the green and red whip fly from the shadows. She saw her attacker's wide eyed stare as it curled like a snake around his neck. Time seemed to slow down. His frightened face looking suddenly childish. She heard his neck snap as he was pulled aside.

The woman covered herself as best she could, wondering who had saved her. Her questioned was answered a moment later was a figure, menacing and dark, emerged from the shadows. The whip trailed from his hand. He was dressed his a jester, his face half hidden by a mask that matched the rest of his attire. He gave her a swift, almost harlequin, bow. He flashed her a dark smile. She blinked her eyes. When they reopened, he was gone.

* * *

Dmitri Hartman was not overly handsome, or popular. He did not have a great job and was not in any position of power. He was simply a modest school teacher. He'd once had ambitions, dreams, goals.. But they were gone. No. He was now simply a teacher.

On this particular day, Dmitri was walking into his classroom, briefcase in hand. His students were already sitting quietly in their desks, waiting for the lesson to start. He was probably the only teacher the students respected. He was the only one they didn't throw spit balls at, or talk back to, or be disruptive to the class. They worked hard for him. None of the other teachers could understand it. In their classes, the students would shout and jump and talk and generally cause mayhem. For Mr. Hartman however, the moment they entered the classroom, they were changed.

Dmitri picked up his white board marker and drew a large triangle on the board. None of the other teachers knew why, but every day, Dmitri would walk into the class and draw the triangle. The students would stare at the triangle for the entire class as though transfixed. They were always excited to go to Mr. Hartman's psyche class and stare at the triangle.

Dmitri knew why he drew the triangle. His students were idiots not to realise. They all stared at the triangle, wondering if something was going to happen. Nothing ever did, but the students wondered all the same. Today, something would happen. Dmitri could feel it in his bones. He could feel the air crackling with that familiar electricity. He was excited. Few things ever happened at Red Candle High. It was perhaps the most boring city around. Still, Dmitri loved it.

They were 20 minutes into the class when it happened. The PA crackled to life and the dull call sounded around the school.

**"Lockdown mode initiated. This is not a drill. I repeat, Lockdown in progress. Not a drill."**


End file.
